Hold onto me
by thggirl
Summary: The cave scene during the Hunger Games reversed. Peeta doesn't get his leg injured but instead Katniss does. How will she cope having to depend solely on the boy with the bread?
1. Chapter 1

**Here it is the reverse cave scene that some have wanted to read for a while! Over 2000 word chapter to start it off.**

**What you should know before you read:**

**This is basically like the cave scene from the book reversed. Katniss is in Peeta's situation and Peeta in Katniss'. Although I have made some changes to differentiate it a little more from the books.**

**In this Peeta does not join the careers.**

**From the beginning of the games Peeta stays at the cave, just incase I don't clarify that enough.**

**Katniss gets the same injury as Peeta does in the book, she is a girl and she is smaller than Peeta therefore it will have a bigger effect on her than Peeta.**

**As of right now I believe this story will be 1-5 chapters but I could be wrong.**

**I'm no medical expert and I will not be able to explain everything. **

**I am thirteen, this will not be perfect and there probably will be mistakes. And this was written by phone.**

**That's it I think, enjoy. I hope! **

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><p>Chapter 1<p>

_Peeta's POV : _

The games began one day ago, over that time eight tributes have been killed, to my luck and sanity Katniss is not one of them. That still doesn't mean every second I don't worry about her. Of course I don't doubt her skills for a second but I do wonder if she has even gotten a bow, or any weapon for that matter. Could she be wounded or trapped, near death? I should stop thinking like this it's not exactly helping me any but I just can't stop myself or change the subject. All I know is her face has not shown in the sky yet, I hope it never does.

When we had first arrived into the arena I had come to find Katniss was placed out on the launch pad furthest from mine. I had immediately figured out that it was indeed a move of the gamemakers they had known to do so because of my interview. After this is only a show for them, our lives are meaningless. As unfortunate as it was to be placed there I am luckier than the others. Many items were placed near me and I was on the launch pad near the dense forest of the arena, that had given me the opportunity to grab a large backpack and belt of knives before running. Had it been a coincidence that the largest backpack out was the one closest to me, could that also be work of the gamemakers? Maybe they want me to live longer because I had captured the capitals attention with my confession?

After grabbing the supplies I had quickly ran into the woods without a second thought. Although, now, I deeply regret my fast decision, even though it helped me make it out alive. I could've at least watched a little bit and made sure she was alright or got something. I didn't, I haven't known her condition or seen her since before the games commenced. Instead, I had ran for the whole day and kept going ceaselessly before reaching a stream that ran straight through the leafy-green land. I had filled up my canteen in the bag and continued searching in hopes of finding a decent shelter.

About fifteen minutes of more walking I went through some lush brush that had opened up to a clearing. In it I found a cave that was concealed in thick green and rotten brown vines, approaching closer I had thought it was a rock. Then I saw that I was wrong when I found a way in, it's actually a cave. I figured it was a decent - no excellent shelter for the games, it's pretty isolated and would hold in many weather conditions.

I took refuge there, although I did not get much rest.

Now it must be mid-morning, the sun gradually rises up into the sky creating many pastel hues above the trees. Soft pinks, a soft shade of a vivid orange, my favorite color. A faint purple resides at the top, nearby the birds begin to chirp at the start of the early hours. The crisp air causes the ankle-deep grass sway in a rhythm with the trees limbs that rustle at the slow movement. The slowly increasing light peeks through the mouth of the cave. If I had my sketchbook I would capture this moment in it's pages. I'm struck by the vivacious scene before my eyes, all I have ever seen is coal-covered district 12, this is amazing.

The backpack which I had picked up is a large one in the color of jean blue. I had checked through it's contents yesterday after arriving here. Inside I found three empty water bottles, matches, beef jerky, dried fruit, crackers, iodine, bandages, a first aid kit and 2 extra shirts. The three empty water bottles I have filled at the nearby stream and added two drops of iodine into them. I do have a lot compared to the other tributes; outside of the careers. It's kind of like I actually made a impression in the capitol and they're willing me to survive and make it near the end. I will try.

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><p><em>Katniss' POV (Later into the games) :<em>

Smoke taints the air being a remnant of the fire that had blazed through the forest earlier. The snore that comes from the careers below are the only thing that restrain me from getting down and making a run for it. A dull pain throbs in my leg from the burn that has mostly healed thanks to the burn cream. Everything is normal, no screams or bloodshed tonight. The only activity was the faces projected in the sky about two hours ago. For now I'm alright. Although, tomorrow, I am to be awoken with problems, if I mess up I will certainly be killed. I can't sleep not with this reminder lurking in every crevice of my worried mind.

Then I hear it, faintly, the rustle of a tree limb and the whisper that ensues it. "Katniss."

Frantically, I turn to be greeted with wide brown eyes that glimmer in the next tree about five feet from the one I am in. At a first glance you'd easily mistake the small figure and eyes for an animal perched in the tree, then I closer examine it and see it is not animal - _she_ is a small girl. Only with the minimal help of the faint moonlight from the game makers I recognize her. Her mocha-colored skin slightly glows and her eyes reflect the light. Rue, the small girl from district 11. The youngest one in the games, she does not deserve to be here. Nobody does.

She notices she has grasped my attention she puts up her pointer finger; aimed at something _above_ my head.

Hesitantly, I look up at first it is only a few tree limbs of the oak then, I spot it. The nest of tracker jackers. I glance back to her. She makes a sawing motion, back and forth with her hand and nods to the handle of my knife that lies in my boot, I pluck it out and ascend to the branch above careful not to create noise. I motion Rue to leave and she does, delicately hopping branch to branch with precise movements. Her small silhouette has disappeared into the inky black distance within half a minute.

With a shaky hand I place the blade to the bark. At the moment I do not regret what I am about to do. My main priority is going home, for Prim. But two people stand between that, the games only have one winner, which means Peeta, the boy with the bread, the one I owe greatly and innocent little Rue - would have to die. The thought of their deaths does _not _settle well in my stomach. Maybe I was wrong to get slightly attached to each in my mind. Rue is to much like Prim, I was stuck as soon as I saw her. I didn't exactly have a choice with Peeta either, how could I have known the boy that had thrown me bread years ago - the one who saved my life; that I would _possibly_ have to go back and kill him a few years later? If it were to come down to it I don't think I could kill them. Now I can only hope I won't have too. Both of them have helped me in a way. I hate owing.

Below me the careers sleep peacefully, they do not know that won't last long. Some part of me screams_ no they're really just people like you, they don't want to die. They're only teenagers!_ I know They're innocence however was taken long ago, since they could walk they were taught to kill. Who would they actually be if circumstances were different?

That small aching peice of me does not stop me. Prim needs me. My heart pounds in my ears, and my blood burns in my veins. That is what makes me begin to saw the limb off.

I go as fast as possible in an incessant motion. Back and forth.

At the movement the tracker jackers begin to leave their nest. One. Two. Three.

They swarm everywhere then I gasp in pain when I feel the intense burning, like fire, right in my neck.

Ignoring the sting, I continue my movements only partially slowed. _For Prim._

Then it's gone, falling, the whole branch with the nest dangling from it. Like slow motion, crashing through the limbs until it bursts open at the contact of the ground.

Buzzing and screams are deafening to the ears after it lands. Bunches of yellow and black whirl below as the careers struggle flail and try to escape the furious insects. Glimmer drags herself screeching for someone to help her. No one does. She stumbles further, out of my view, but I reckon she will not get far in her condition.

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><p>I fell out of the tree then continued to be stung twice by straying tracker jackers. Now I'm worried about myself. My stings throb and poison feels like it tingles throughout my body, it's all so dull is strange now, maybe I'm beginning to hulucinate. My sight seems to flicker, the corners of my vision are black like the way paper burns. I'm sure I'm walking straight, but oh, everything is spinning, am I really walking straight? I crash into a tree before I slide down it. Maybe I should rest.<p>

I see Prim on her knees before me in tears, the ugly mangled cat squeezed tightly in her arms. "Katniss how could you!" She sobs a fresh tear leaving her red eyes and going down her blotchy cheek.

"I never did anything! Why are you crying! " I cry in concern for my little sister.

Suddenly, from behind Prim, Cato burst out of a fuzzy green bush, sword poised. It looks like there's three of him. It's slow motion. I can't even move to help her.

"Prim, watch out! Behind you!" I screech my finger shaking at Cato. But he steps right over her.

"Lover boy isn't here to save you, that's a shame." He utters, Prim glares at me from behind him her hand pushing through buttercup's coat.

I don't even recognize the scream that escapes my mouth as my own, the blade of the sword is plunged deep inside the flesh of my mid-thigh. My vision blurs more. I feel like I will faint, my leg stings and the fire consumes my entire leg. Tears prick at my eyes.

"Firegirl your going to suffer for what you did."

The blade twists and I put a hand up to my quivering lip to stifle my scream. Slowly, he pulls the blade out. The cry built in my throat escapes in a blood-curling scream. A tear rolls down my cheek. My vision burns and my eyes water before everything is overcome with white. I would not hesitate to believe I'm dead.

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><p>I'm very aware of the flaring burn in my throat when I wake up. My mind is clouded and my head pounds throbbingly non-stop. My stings are swollen and cause immense pain. My entire leg feels like it's been stabbed by myriad of needles. I wish it were just numb. My thigh feels like it's on fire. The smell or rotting flesh is very strong, it must be from my leg. I'm to scared to lift my head, which feels like a million pounds, out of the leaves and look at it. Could it possibly be worse than it feels? How long have I been here?<p>

I _need _water. But I can't move, I don't even have to attempt to, I know this.

_This is it, I'm going to die now._ _I'm sorry Prim. I'm sorry Gale. I'm sorry Madge._

I know all of you believed I could survive, that I would could come back home. But all along I knew I couldn't. I broke my promise.

With an unstable, shuttering hand I press three fingers to my mouth and let my hand fall back by my side unsure of when I will no longer be in this arena. Father, I'm coming with you wherever you are.

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><p><em>Peeta's POV: <em>

I sit on my sleeping bag watching the mid-afternoon sun, I'm not sure what to do. I've been mostly eating small rations of the beef jerky, dried fruit and crackers. Although I wonder I will do when I run out, surely Haymitch wouldn't let me starve. I'm not worried about myself however, I'm worried about _Katniss. _I worry about her condition, does she have food and water, what about shelter?

Many times I've internally battled to go look for Katniss although I've refused to. If I did go it's more likely I would run into someone else, she is only one person out of everyone else and this is a huge arena. But I wanted to protect her ever since she was reaped and I can't, and guilt is eating me alive for it.

Metal clanks against rock. There sits a parachute, underneath sits a small container. I'm nothing less than surprised.

Hurriedly, I open it. Inside is a small folded piece of paper. There isn't any gift. But the piece of information the paper gives is better than any gift.

"_She doesn't have much longer, if you're going go now. Look by the river and stay alive. -H"_

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><p><strong>So I hope my introduction chapter to my story was not that bad. <strong>

**I am actually really enjoying rewriting this idea. This story first appealed to be written about a year ago-I had immediately written it but decided against actually putting it up. I kept it with my drafts of unpublished stories. I have majorly improved in my writing skills since last year I knew it had to be rewritten and so I made this. Seriously though, I'd be embarrassed to show you the first one I wrote. I still have it saved in my phone just to laugh at it. :D**

**Well what do you guys think of this, I know this probably a very boring introduction but next chapter is full of Everlark/Peeniss whatever. ;)**

**I've already started the next chapter so I'll update soon if you'd like to read more! :)**


	2. Chapter 2

_Katniss' POV: _

As I lie here hopelessly, I drift in and out of consciousness. My mind is disturbingly blank, maybe I am still in shock gripping reality, or maybe it's because I'm still on the edge of hallucinations. Whatever it is it holds me down, like I'm paralyzed, I can't move anywhere or consider dragging myself somewhere safer, I'm stuck here. Just before I'm about to drift off I hear it faintly over the ringing in my ears.

Footsteps. Loud footsteps. Fear and comfort roll in my stomach. They can kill me if I am found. That would mean I'd have to endure more pain, and in the end I'd be gone. I'd leave Prim doing so but I already accepted I wouldn't be going home to her anyways. If they kill me that means I am free from here, from Panem, from Snow.

Whoever takes each step could not be a hunter with such loud tread they'd scare every animal within a ten mile radius. Even with my dull hearing I can hear them with a shocking clarity.

I pray it's not Cato, he'd torture me some more if we cross paths. I just want death. But then I don't want death, because Prim. Sweet, innocent Prim who is being forced to watch me. I hope she turned away when Cato stabbed me.

Closer they approach, useless I am to moving or hiding, I'm left here to be spotted. I roll my head to the side my cheek falls into the plush grass I stare into the forest. In front of me a ladybug takes small steps up a blade of grass, I smile at it. I cannot hear but birds must be chirping over the metallic ringing, they're to quiet to be heard only the loud footsteps break through the sound. The smell of my leg rotting is overpowering to anything else but beyond that I can make out the smell of the woods and fresh air, if I can ignore the disgusting smell of my flesh maybe I can pretend I'm in the woods.

Apart the small green bush breaks open, the one that separated me from the person with loud footsteps.

Peeta appears. He looks bright and healthy unlike I, how did he manage so? Out of all people, it turned out to be him here. I can't help but think this is sick, the boy who saved me will now be the one to kill me. What a grand finale to my miserable life.

Suddenly, he's kneeling next to me.

"Katniss, what happened to you?" He asks carefully, his hand pulls a strand of hair from my face.

I gulp trying to make my throat less dry. Slowly, I turn from the ground and look up to him.

Maybe he's taking in my state first, the tracker jacket stings the bloodied leg, maybe he figures I'll die without his help.

Although he's still momentarily and I'm frustrated with it.

"What are you waiting for?" I utter weakly. In other words, _Kill me now, please._

He looks to me ruefully, and shakes his head. "No."

"No I'm not killing you."

_How could you expect him to anyways? _It's something I'd never imagine him to do no matter the circumstances.

I'm waiting for him to stand up but he doesn't. He stays kneeled next to me, like he's thinking something through.

He reaches out and grips me under my knees with one arm and grabs me around the shoulder with the , I freak out. "What are you doing, " I cry in shock and distressed at his sudden movement.

"I'm not leaving you here," he says thickly his blonde eyebrows scrunched.

Weighing the options I see if I did go with him that I have a better chance rather than lying here, however if I somehow make it to the end I couldn't kill the boy who saved me once-no twice in that matter. If I go with him then I'd be a burden but have a better chance at surviving. But I owe him, I can't be selfish.

He stands up without my consent and takes me with him, at this point I don't even have an option I guess. Instead of fighting I comply, for Prim, she'd urge me to allow him. I need to go home to her, no matter the costs.

Peeta carries me as if I'm weightless this is no surprise to me after I've seen him lift over a hundred pound sacks of flour at the bakery and compete in wrestling at school.

It's odd hanging on your back facing up with a bloodied leg, I watch up and see the sky and his face. The sky is light blue and cloudless, the gamemakers have done that I am sure. I hadn't seen him this close before but now that I had the chance I study him, his face is chiseled, his features are prominent, right on his chin - you can't tell so without the help of the sun is a subtle amount of pale blonde hair. This was the boy with the bread, closer than ever.

My ringing ears have begun to subside partially, therefore I can here the rushing water as we approach it. Suddenly, the incessant rhythm of his legs I had become fond of come to a halt.

"Here you need to get cleaned up," cautiously he lays me on a stone next to the river which isn't blanketed in mud.

"Where'd you get cut?" he asks as his eye roam my body taking in my condition.

My own voice is startling, it's raspy and dry. "Mid-thigh, right leg."

He looks, his hands go to my leg and he finds exactly where the puncture on my leg is located. I notice how his teeth gnaw on his lip at the sight.

"Katniss, I'm going to um-have to take your pants off." He says it straight to the point, however bashful, his cheeks are red, his azure eyes trained at the slab of rock above my head.

What if what he said in his interview held any meaning? I'm suddenly flustered. But right now I'd do anything to have these filthy, spoiled, clothes off. I swallow the lump in my throat which feels like a clump of dry clay. "Okay, go ahead."

He does, his hands inch up and awkwardly unbuckle my brown leather belt that came with my clothes upon the commencing of the games. The cargo pangs wiggle down my legs, I can tell he's trying to be careful not to irritate the cut as well as not dwell on taking my pants off for the sake of the already tense air we both seem to have at the moment.

As he slides it to my ankles I help him, kicking my leg.

The breeze moves to my swollen leg and kisses my now bare skin. It's after a few seconds I'm self concious, I resist the urge to fight my way back into the pants. For the girls panties this year we had lacy black underwear, I think that's purely for the capitol. Those sick freaks must be watching me at the moment, disgusted I try to forget the cameras which must be directly focused on me at this moment. Oh even Gale is watching this, I've never been so embarrassed in my life. This is fine, this is how my mom works on patients all the time, I tell myself. I look over and then there's Peeta, who by the look on his face right now must be the most innocent teenage boy in Panem. His cheeks look like they will permanently be stained red at this point.

"Er I need to wash your shirt too," He mumbles incoherently. I don't miss the way his eyes drift down before he brings them back up.

Wordlessly, I begin to pull my arms in my shirt and slip it over my head, I throw it into the pile my pants are in. To my displeasure I have been dressed in a matching bra.

Peeta picks me up and carries me to the edge of the stream. I'm not sure why he goes through this but he does, maybe he's aching for human contact, after all he was always covered in friends back home.

On the shore of the stream there is mush sand, carefully he lies me down in it before, without warning, fully turning me and putting my legs completely in the water. At first I hiss at the contact of it. My head lifelessly turns to the side and I see swirls of red around my leg. Then, it doesn't feel so bad.

"I'm going to take you in the water now." He tells me before scooping me up again before wading in the water to his knees, not minding that the bottoms of his pants are getting soaked along with his boots in the process.

Leaning over he lowers me in, my back is in water along with the rest if my body. The only thing above is my face the water is to my scalp however, my hair dangles in getting washed as well. I use my hands and run them through my hair untangling the snarls with my fingers and removing dirt. Then I do the same and skim my fingers over my body, it's awkward, especially when your being held above the water by a boy.

Thankfully it's only a two minute task and I'm being took back to the warm rock to rest after.

He shrugs off his jacket and his upper body shifts at the movement, I now understand that he must be popular with girls back home, not that I ever doubted it before.

I blink and his hand is extended with the coat to me, "here." I take it accepting his offer and cover myself. Protecting my body from the breeze, and the eyes of Panem and okay, Peeta's gaze too. For the cameras and gamemakers ;that should be enough to keep them interested and not pull a major twist.

Now I think Peeta's washing my clothes. Still I don't quite understands why he bothers with me.

After he leaves them to dry hanging from a near by limb of a tree. As we wait Peeta hands me a bottle of water and I drink, trying to satisfy my dry, parched throat. I sleep to pass time, it isn't hard with me being clean for the first time in days and being cocooned in a large jacket.

I'm shook awake at dawn, Peeta silently hands me my now dry clothes as I wake up more.

Silently, I put them on as he turns his back, I struggle with the pants however. Unfortunately and embarrassingly I have to ask Peeta for help. I'm beet red as he carefully slips them back up. "Thanks," I say quietly feeling shy and timid.

He smiles in response, I think he gets how strange it'd be to say 'your welcome' too.

I'm in his arms again once he pulls me off the rock. "Where are we going?"

"I've been staying in a cave, we'll go there." He responds factually. With the setting sun the sky slowly becomes dark. We travel under the stars.


	3. Chapter 3

Alright here is more people! Chapter 3 Katniss' POV: When we arrive at the cave Peeta sets me on the top of a sleeping bag before digging through a blue backpack tucked into the corner of the cave. From it he produces white pristine, capitol grade bandages. He looks to have no idea like I, I'm not surprised, neither of us were prepared for the games. "Um...maybe it'd be better covered up?" He asks I can only slightly see him due to the lack of light that passed through the vines that lie blanketed around the entrance. That and it's a particularly dark night. I could agree with his suggestion, my slightly inflamed throbbing wound would make better covered. At least then I'd know for sure nothing else can get into it and it'd be infected. "Alright. " He hands me the bandage and I quickly loop it into a tight knot around my leg which I think will suffice. We stay in our positions, Peeta sitting closer to the entrance of the cave and I on the sleeping bag deeper in. All the sudden a clap hits the ground outside of the cave. Instantly another. Then it increases more per second. I sit up using my shaky arms, careful not to irritate my leg. Then I see what it is; rain. What I suspected. "Peeta?" I ask his figure that is faced toward the rain. He turns to me. "Yeah?" "You should take your sleeping bag," I wiggle off it and reposition myself on the cave floor. "No of course not, I rather you use it," he affirms. "I'm not going to make you sleep on the floor, it's yours you use it." I argue in disbelief. He's silent. I am too. Suddenly, I feel the temperature drop, fast. The heat in the cave seems to disappear and the nippy air from outside seeps in. Frantically the rain picks up, it sprays and incessantly pounds the roof of the cave and slips through a crack in small drips. The mouth of the cave has slight water that's creeped inside, its only to the toe of Peeta's boot. A chilly wind gusts through the front, the vines shake, I do too. "Come here," I urge Peeta from the front of the cave, he's helped me twice I'm not going to let him do something else for me. He does, taking a seat on the floor nearly a foot from me, he drifts his eyes to my curled up form. I scowl at him without contemplation. Immediately he redirects his gaze at the wall. Lower the temperature drops, in less than five minutes. We're all chilled, the gamemakers are ruthless. I can only feel bad for the others, they're outside in the weather and the rain. My stomach tightens, Rue is out in a tree somewhere in the middle of this. I'd be out in this too with a bloodied leg dying, but the boy with the bread has came back in my time of distress. How does this happen every time? Why does he show up just in time to prevent my death? I look at him from the corner of my eye, his golden hair glows even in this lack of light, his sapphire eyes still. I remove my eyes quickly before I do something stupid like smile at him. My eyes cast to the sleeping bag limply lying there. It would be warm, it's so thick it'd be so easy to curl up in it's walls and forget the mess I'm in. But it'd be wrong to use it and not Peeta, after all it is his. I look at it thoughtfully, maybe we could fit in there. No he must not want to share a sleeping bag with me. I'd be okay with it, it'd be awkward most likely, although the middle of the hunger games is not a place to be picky. I exhale blowing air through my mouth. The temperature plummets minute by minute. You'd think the gamemakers would have more mercy. Nearly fifteen minutes later the cold is what sways me into my decision. I can only hope this will turn out well. Again I focus back on Peeta who looks mildly cold in his stiff position, he has a larger frame than I he won't be as cold. "We could fit in that sleeping bag," I nearly regret it the moment it passes my lips. Though desperation will make you do anything it seems. Even if that means sharing a sleeping bag with a boy. After all, it could be worse. He looks to me, "yeah, probably, are you suggesting...?" I don't trust my voice, I nod. "Okay that'll work fine, maybe you should get in first." He readily agrees, maybe he was colder than I thought. I untie my boots knowing it's going to be hard to fit the both of us in there, we'll be warm though. After I slip off my boots I shove my socks into them, it feels great to finally not have them stuck to my feet. With ease I slip myself into the sleeping bag, the warm fabric inside feels like the softest thing I've ever touched, of course I'd think so after the uncounted days here. I lie on my side in the thick down making as much space as I can. My back is pushed to the outside as my stomach facing the interior of the bag. Peeta takes off his boots and follows my lead barely fitting inside the tight one person bag. Actually no his shoulders don't fit in, I bite my lip and close the few inches I have pushing myself against him before he wraps his arms around me and we only then both fit in the bag. Heat rolls in thick waves off him, my body absorbs it without hesitation. His larger frame seems to block the wind and protect me from the threatening cold that lurks around. My wounded leg lies limply slightly tangled with his. He shifts only to adjust himself to the tight space more and I dig my hands into his shirt. His warm embrace tightens and surrounds me in a tight hold that urges me to fall asleep. Feeling more comfortable with Peeta I succumb the urge and lie my head down into his chest. "Goodnight Peeta, " I murmur his heartbeat strumming beneath my ear. "Night Katniss." My hand is still fisted in his shirt when I wake up, I pull it off. I feel hot, too hot, quickly I slide out of the sleeping bag sort of dragging my wounded leg out in the process. I succeed in getting out but not doing so without waking Peeta up. He groans and looks up at me. "What's wrong," he asks looking a little worried as he rubs his eyes. "Nothing just a little warm," I say immediately. He inches forward out of the sleeping bag but suddenly there's a loud thud outside, he quickly looks to the entrance before standing and going there. He slips through the vines and my chest tightens in fear and uncertainty. I've enjoyed having actual human contact after being alone in an arena for who knows how long, I lost count of the days. Now, it seems when anything good happens to me it only is there for a while before it slips through my fingers. This is our lives at stake but in a arena with one survivor you'll have to go through hell to get there. Going home seems to be not an option now, Peeta should and most likely will. The only way to win for me is his death. It'd be utterly wrong to spring an attack on Peeta, I'm to in debt with him. That and I'm way to weak. I scold myself, how could I even think of harming him, all he's done is good, more innocent than I at this point. I just need a plan, something, how will I make it through, how can I endure much more injured? After all, I can't depend on Peeta for survival, I already owe him and I'm not that selfish. Peeta's POV: As soon as I emerge through the thicket of vines at the mouth of the cave I see it. A parachute about the size of my fist with a note attached to it by twine. Haymitch. I grab it and detach the note. "Start a romance and keep the capitols interest to gain gifts. Stay alive. -H" That will be hard to do, of course I want it but getting Katniss to go with me not knowing she has to will be a whole new challenge. Gifts are probably medicine, which is greatly needed now. I can't afford to fail this, it's Katniss' life on the line. Katniss' POV: The thought of him being attacked out there is shot down when he returns in less than a minute unscathed. "There wasn't anything out there," he says smoothly not breaking eye contact with me. It's then that I realize him being the smooth talker he is it'd be near impossible to decipher a lie from his mouth. But who doesn't lie? Surely he would any time he feels he should. I take his words and at that moment accept them as truth but my suspicions are irked. He comes and kneels in front of me on the hard floor of the cave, his growing hair falls in front of his blue eyes slightly, you can tell it hasn't been trimmed since entering the arena. "You told me you were feeling warm," he says bringing up my statement from earlier. He reaches a hand out and I'm startled to see it tenderly land on my forehead. It feels cold. I'm frozen as he holds it there longer than I'd like. "You're burning up Katniss," He murmurs his lips bow as his eyes clench and frame adopts stiffness. "Peeta I'm okay, really," I confirm and try to ease him. It's sort of a lie, my leg throbs beneath the bloodied bandage, each time it sends a spike of burning pain searing from the location of the wound. The air seems a bit hot today and my head is dizzy. No matter what I say he however is restless. I close my eyes after my futile attempt at something of a comforting lie. When I open them I see he has moved, now he digs through his backpack in the corner before pulling out a water bottle and a small box of crackers. Within a few strides of his legs he's in front of me again. "Here you need to eat and drink." He pushes the water bottle and crackers to me. "I'm not taking anything else from you I already owe you enough. " I decline stubbornly shaking my head. "You don't owe me anything." Our eyes touch, my breath has become ragged due to the agonizing pain my leg emits. I push the stuff back and lie back on the cool floor that feels good on my skin. My eyes close once again and I grit my teeth. "Yes I do, you've already done enough for me." It's silent. I accept it and the darkness behind my lids. Prim appears in my mind, she looks so small and fragile, I'm 12 again we're starving. What if something like that happens again, I don't believe I'll make it home to help her. What about Gale seeing his hunting partner weak depending on a boy that I really know nothing of. If I were to make it back he'd look at me differently, right? I divert my thoughts, what is to happen is unknown and right now it's useless to wonder what if. The stillness of the cave prolongs. The dryness of my throat aches every time I swallow. It's red-hot pain sizzles and urges me to get water, which I'm not capable of. Peeta is the only way to it at this point, and to face it I know I'll be dead either of dehydration or from this wound without his help. It's like I can feel him staring at me while my eyes are closed. Kind of like the way he'd stare at me in school, I thought he was expecting a thank you which I could never seem to muster up. A part of me screams he could cause me harm and I should have my eyes open watching him carefully, but honestly, he'd have killed me already rather than going through all the trouble. "Is it the bread from we were kids or now?" His voice travels through the expanse of the cave. I open my eyes and sure enough he's looking at me. I sit up even though it strains my leg, he adverts his gaze. "Both Peeta." "You don't owe me for either, definitely not when we were kids!" He shakes his head vehemently as he says his point. "No, I don't care, you saved me twice and that means I have to pay you back, but certainly not take more." "You're really not going to let me help you after all I did to get you here?" He does make his point, he doesn't want to see me die after dragging me all this way to survive. "But it's wrong to keep taking! First the bread and then you clean my wound and take me into your shelter, I can't take more," I say refusing again. "Katniss I wanted to find you the whole time, you're not a nuisance, please just let me take care of you, you don't always have to be strong." I look at him skeptically, his words make his statement in the interview seem true. And I can't make a decision of what I'd like to do anymore. After many words and reassurances from him he convinces me to eat and drink a little before he wets a cloth and puts it on my head to soothe the heat a bit. I keep offering to watch, he tells me to rest, I steadily begin to be lulled to sleep. Before it overtakes me he leans down to where I lie and presses a kiss to my warm cheek. I pretend to be asleep to avoid confusion with him, but really I'm crazy to know why he did it. 


	4. Chapter 4

**This was extremely fun for me to write and I do hope you enjoy it, I've had ideas pent up for this story and I've been furiously typing them down on all my free time today and yesterday. Anyways, I'll most likely have the next chapter up soon, this story is getting to the action and it's really exciting to watch develop! :) Without any further ramblings here's the story.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.**

* * *

><p>Chapter 4:<p>

Even a while after the sleep fully dissipates I remain still and keep my eyes shut, the warmth of the sleeping bag and my thoughts surround me and forbid me from actually stirring.

While staying at this cave with Peeta has been an incredibly wonderful paradise in these disastrous games we've been forced into it's all so wrong. Taking from Peeta yet again and not being useful in anyway, unless, just maybe although I doubt it, he likes the company of a small dark girl. But even if that somehow is true, that the unbelievably small gift of my presences is slightly enjoyable it doesn't even begin to make up for everything he's given. This situation is wholly unfair and unprofitable to him, and yet, he persists. Now I regret taking food from him, even if I only took barely any when he tried to feed me more, it's still undeniably wrong. I just wasn't thinking when he used his words and charm to coax me into taking more. Why does he, the kind, caring, person he is get into this, why must the boy with bread be put in such a situation with I? He certainly deserves nothing like this, he's drenched in an innocence that I've lost. That boy shouldn't be here, let alone anywhere near here. Most definitely he should survive, and once again, I'm pressured with a thousand pounds of guilt, I owe him my life and I'm allowing myself to be a burden unto him; even though he says otherwise I don't believe his words as true. He who sits somewhere in this cave with I, I decide a brief glance wouldn't hurt.

Cautiously, I subtly peer out of my eyes hooded by heavy lids, outside of my dark sooty lashes I see light. An orange glow of the sun's fingers splayed across the arena, warmth floods from it in plentiful waves seeping through the dense vine's enclosure and tickling my bare arms that aren't any longer bundled in the black cocoon of the sleeping bag. Leaning his head against the smooth rock wall Peeta's broad back is turned to me, therefore he's facing towards the sun, from behind I can tell his hair is tousled and unkempt due to an uneventful night of running his hands through his hair, plus an innumerable amount of days in the woodlands arena doesn't help. Each strand is a glossy gold illuminated by the sun creating a vibrant crown of yellow and orange hues.

What do I do now? How do I fix this mess and have him leave the arena unharmed and alive rather than arrive home dead in a body bag? With six tributes remaining I hate to believe it, but it seems true, the answer is to divert myself from him. My disappearance would equal a better chance of withstanding death for him, he'd have more supplies and in that case, less worries. Besides, when the fact of my debt to him is stirred in with it; then I'm certain there's no other choice. With Gale to help, my lifeless mother and high-spirited sister could bare my loss and suffice. But I couldn't bare the death of Peeta, especially when I would have known I could've prevented it.

It seems as if my next move has been printed out in bold italics and laid out on a paper before me. I have to go, before things become worse, before my injury becomes too severe and the immense demand and requirements that would have to be met for my survival drifts to Peeta's hands. But most of all, because I don't belong in the care of someone else; if I can't upkeep my stay or do work then I must not be here.

Deciding now would be a proper time to leave the sleeping bag and end my session of feigning slumber I clamber out of it. The task is strenuous but not time costly, I use my hands to clamp onto the cold rock flooring of the cave and my good leg to worm myself out of the roomy fabric walls. Once I'm successfully out I'm a bit surprised that Peeta didn't glance over to me at all during the noise I caused.

To proceed I decide I'd like to go to Peeta whose across the cave, he seems to be in haze of thoughts or possibly he's gazing at the muted orange sky that he appears to be enamored with by the way his orbs stare at it. I'm immensely hoping I can persuade him to take a deep slumber, I'm not good with words but maybe my desperation will take control of the words I utter.

Now my biggest obstacle seems to be going across the cave which isn't possibly anymore than twelve feet away but with the ablaze aching sizzling in my thigh which I'm too scared to look at it seems to be a myriad of miles. I cross limp-walking off my list, as soon as the weight would be applied to my injured leg I would drop like a brick to the cave floor; It's nothing medical it's common sense. The only other option would be to drag myself, this seems rough but ultimately much better than walking. If I can master dragging myself somewhat it wouldn't be a bad thing for when the time to leave comes around the corner.

And so, I do, pointing myself in that direction I clench my teeth and tug myself across the floor with my calloused hands while balancing on my all-too-flat breasts and my minuscule stomach which has gratefully accepted Peeta's food and now lies mostly filled by the small amount. As I recall he had frowned when he saw my small portion and tried to give me more which I vehemently refused while I speculated him dubiously.

As I move it creates a scraping sound like sand-paper against wood. This very sound echoes through the cave walls, and the movement painfully nips at my wound. Peeta breaks from his trance as his head snaps to me and he observes me keen-eyed.

Something clicks and he sharply gasps, "Katniss don't do that you're going to agitate your wound!" He rushes over to me, as a strong arm sweeps under my half-way crawling body and air rushes beneath me as he whisks me up with ease. The fear of falling hits me hard causing me to try and prevent it. I cling white-knuckles to the nearest thing, which right now is the expanse of cotton over his chest. With arms beneath my knees and shoulder blades I'm balanced in his arms, yet again. At my mini heart attack I'm more breathless than I should be, my small lungs choke on the air I take abnormal breath fulls of.

"If you want to move around just tell me so you don't stress your leg," he murmurs softly although in a scolding manner which startles me a bit. My chest clenches and I'm unable to respond.

He takes me to where he was sitting at the entrance bathed in light and covered in vines. Peeta sits himself down taking me with him, and does something unsettling, he arranges me on his thighs near his lap before he lazily places an arm around me. I become tense as I catch my breath in my dry throat. I feel as stiff and rigid as one of the stray rocks outlining the cave. I'm in such horror and surprise I can't begin to conceive a thought or a decision. Peeta steadily breathes behind me, as if he were awaiting a reaction, I'm not sure which one to give. Turn into a wildcat beneath his arms and abruptly pull myself away from him or stay still.

He's so solid and warm beneath me yet comfortable and he doesn't smell as bad as he should. Just a lot like trees and the river water that he'd washed me in; which reminds me of the woods back home. Out of the corner of my eye I notice his lack of sleep is evident. His eyes are filmed in a sleepy way and face is slightly snuggled in my hair as if it were a pillow. For the plan to work I need him to go to sleep, and now wouldn't be a bad time for I am rested up and desperate with enough adrenaline to drag myself that painful distance however long it may be. With a sigh I uncurl myself from the tight position and loosen my fists that have imprinted crescent moons into my palm. Carefully, I ease my weight down and lean back into his chest.

At my response he give a low contented sigh, a sound which makes a slight vibration against my lower back and causes me to feel flustered. Slowly he inclines his back to meet the curve of the cool wall, I lie my head back and try to make him believe I will be still and remain here when he wakes, however, when I lie my head back I bury his face in my hair and I feel his noes nudge against the top of my head. Although, like I so strongly thought he would he doesn't push me back, instead he shifts me ever so lightly so that I might be more comfortable on the expansive space of his chest. Now eased in the middle flush against him he makes his other arm loosely loop over me. My chest tightens as he gathers a lung-full of air through his noes no doubt inhaling the smell of my snarled hair. I don't act or fight his touch because after all, I have a task to be completed so he can go home.

It strikes me as odd of how he can so simply pick me up off the ground, sit down, and settle me in his lap. I can even fathom why he's doing this right now, what if his interview was actually true, that would certainly explain this; but it just doesn't seem likely. Maybe I'm the closest thing of home, of 12, and he's pulling me close and thinking of how life was, because he longs for his normal life and misses it. Perhaps he had a girlfriend or girlfriends, and the feel of a scrawny malnourished girl in his lap allows him to close his eyes and imagine it to be a plump blonde-haired one instead. The possibilities are endless, so I hardly allow myself to think of the first option that came to mind as real. And yet, I don't deny myself imaging Peeta Mellark in love with me. A picture of him gingerly feeding me soup and kissing me comes to mind, that and the feel of him beneath me is enough to activate a dull throbbing in the lower half of my body. Immediately I ban the thought from my mind, I'm wrong to be thinking like this in the Hunger Games which has one survivor. I'm thankful the capitol doesn't have the correct technology to read minds, because if they knew my mind set right now they'd certainly not allow me to leave this cave, rather the gamemaker's would keep me locked up with Peeta until they got something.

I shutter, I've never been interested in such a thing as love like the girl's manage back home. Back home Gale and Prim must be questioning me for being so close with a boy, but by the end of the day they will see my motives. Gale's as stubborn about taking as I am but I could imagine him calling me stupid for not taking advantage of Peeta's kindness. He however doesn't know about the bread and my unending debt to the boy with his arms around me.

The rapid flow of thoughts come to a halt as I hear it over the pounding in my head. Steady breathing. It means one thing, Peeta's asleep. As he sleeps I feel his chest gently lift me up and down at each breath, the comforting sense it gives doesn't make me question why my mother did the same thing with my father.

Despite my body's protest I begin to lightly tug his arm off me and set it to his side, I do so easily willing not to let him stir because of my stupidity. After I've freed myself from his grasp, I deliberately use my arms to leave the warm cradle of his body for the cold floor.

When I am fully off him and have absolutely no contact with him at all I turn to quietly flop to my stomach so I don't pressure my leg. From there I wait tentatively to make sure I haven't been to rough and awoken him but also even though I doubt it, he's acting asleep but really waiting to see my next move. If that is the case, he would be impeccable at feigning sleep because right now his breaths are normal and his face is loosened of stress and has allowed him to look rather carefree and boyish. Curiosity plays in my stomach and mind causing me to inch forward and look at him closer in the minimum sunlight provided.

The first thing I notice is he has long fair eyelashes, they're extraordinarily long for a boy's and I wonder if they'd tickle against my cheeks. Underneath that there's an abundance of hardly-existent freckles on his rosy cheeks, they're strangely endearing to me. I'd seen him as good-looking but I never really scoped him out, until now.

Guilt snaps onto me like a lock, he's so innocent, I remember thinking this thought earlier, and I'm reminded of it looking at his calm face. He doesn't know he'll awaken to an empty cave and that's what feels extremely wrong and makes me nauseous. I'll be leaving the boy whose saved me twice and gone as far as taking a beating so that I could live.

Without another glint of my eyes to him, I pull my body past the boy with bread a silent goodbye on my lips and a strong flaring ache in my leg but it seems to be nothing compared to the heaviness of my heart. I'll probably never see Peeta again.


	5. Chapter 5

**I didn't get this up as quickly as I wanted but I hope you guys will continue reading! If you're confused since its been so long read the last few paragraphs of the last chapter. **

**As soon as I got on a roll with the writing I loved this chapter. I hope you do too it is close to 3000 words! :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Hunger Games.** **_**

Chapter 5:

Dragging a limp barely-holding-together leg is a battle of endurance. It's a process of gritting your teeth, clenching your eyes, and thinking of who you're fighting the pain for. That person's Peeta, and I'm writhing in pain for his survival because he's saved me twice. I want to die with no debts and this one won't be an exception.

It turns out the dense net of vines at the mouth of the cave is a hassle to squirm through, the worst part is ripping my injured leg through it's harsh claws. I've managed to slither most of my body through a rather large hole in it's tight weave, it ranges about the size of a sheet of paper. But I didn't successfully get all the way through it, my bloodied ragged thigh is clenched in its merciless grip. I'm blinded by the sunlight that resonates in front of the cave. Beneath me my arms shake at the pressure of holding the weight of my body as I refuse to move my searing wound from the vines. I lick my parched lips and grunt as I try once again to free myself, I don't dare cry out in fear of waking Peeta from his slumber who lies on the other side of the net fast asleep. I feel like some of the game that gets caught in Gale's snares, wounded, trapped, and on the edge of insanity.

There was an easier way of leaving the cave, there's a little spot where the man-made net isn't connected to the corner walls of the cave, but Peeta's right there at it. I thought it'd be easier to wrestle my way through spider-web like net but now I'm beginning to believe differently.

My head softly drops and my forehead makes contact with the rock directly in front of me, it's been absorbing the heat off the rising sun and now transfers a little bit of it's heat. I'm dripping with sweat but I'm to exhausted to remove my head from the rock because of the previous efforts I had made to free myself.

The day when Peeta threw me the bread crosses my mind, it seems my determination has been renewed. I know I must not waste time for he will awake soon.

With my fists turning white from gripping the immense hard-surfaced rock before me and my jaw as taut as the string of my father's bow, I close my eyes. Furiously I squirm, and use the rocks to get me further. The process to free myself is tedious, and evokes mass amounts of pain throughout each second. I end up biting my outstretched arm making it some kind of muffler to the inevitable, gut-wrenching cries that are involuntary and slip from my lips so easily.

The sound of my boot hitting the ground outside the cave is distant to me. My knuckles rub at my sweaty temples as my mind twirls in a haze and my wound vibrates in a blazing pain.

I have gotten out but not gotten far.

I outstretch a shaky arm that feels to heavy before sinking my dirt-covered nails into the soft earth and the silky grass. Then, like earlier in the cave, I haul my body forward completely depending on my upper body strength that has seemed to diminish since I was cut.

The pain is unbelievable, almost unbearable, my wounded leg pulses and it echoes through my very being.

There's so many things I could've done different and so many different situations I could have been in if I were more careful or took a separate set of choices. But, with a lifeless twitch of my lips I realize I wouldn't change a thing in the games; because this way Peeta can live and if the worst happens to him Rue can and the least I can do is hold either back from it.

Before to long, I've succeed in pulling away from the rocks sporadically outlying the cave. With short breaks in between I drag myself for as long as I possibly can before collapsing in a weak trembling mess by a lush bush speckled with red berries even I, a forger, cannot name. It doesn't take anymore than a second of thought and a glimpse of my wound that's been stirred and now has warm slimly blood seeping into the bandage to understand thoroughly that going further is not a choice. However, hiding is essential at this point, my painstaking efforts will not be proven futile.

Now the sun has completely risen and the skies have lost the multiple pastel hues and been replaced by a clear, bright blue slightly deeper than the shade of the dapples on a robin's egg. With such an immense difference in the surroundings I know that I've been out here for over two hours, at any given time Peeta could awake and realize I am no where to be found.

And so, I persist, with rhythmical movements of my lead-filled, sweat laden arms. The dust of the earth sticks to the hot sticky sweat splattered across my face and enters my mouth each time I gasp for air with my lungs that are aching in my sides, just pounding with a new plea for relief each moment that consists of pulling myself. I don't go far, only a few effort-demanding feet into the dense underbrush on the forest floor. My hiding spot dips slightly and lies beneath the outstretched arms of a ancient oak draped in a cloak of Spanish moss. Contentment fills my sore body as I finally collapse for good, for I have succeeded. But the high of relief doesn't last long, no, not even a minute. As it fades it's exchanged for the realization of my pounding throat, so dry and desperate for the cool crisp water of the stream that it cannot obtain. The outer layer of my body is layered in grime and sweat that will probably never be cleaned off. After all, this is my plan, I have come here to die; but it is for the better good, the last selfless act I can muster and for me, that is enough.

But despite where I know what direction my life will most likely be lead to from here, I am selfish enough to think of where I could be had I not been in the games; had my sister not have been reaped. I'd be home, hunting with Gale and struggling to bring back game and whatever was edible that I could stumble across. I'd be there to watch Gale go off to the mines we both hate with a passion and eventually, if I had two more years, I would follow him into the dark stale pits beneath the earth. Either way my entire life would have been devoted to ensure my family is taken care of, no husband or other way of life for me, it was always my plan before this. Only I can hope Peeta will return to our home and give my family enough to suffice. But I guess they're lives are out of my hands now and I can hold no effect to them from now on, after all I am so far away in this arena with an unknown location.

I'm not exactly sure how long I spend in the shade of the trees that are my refuge from the blazing afternoon sun, all I really know is that if it is not my wound that kills me first it will certainly be dehydration that does. And that's alright, even though I'd prefer a quicker, more-painless death, it will be good enough to fulfill the purpose that I have accepted.

My ringing ears catch it, only faintly at first but then a little louder. A little more each moment. Rustling of leaves beneath feet. The air leaves my lungs as they painfully constrict.

I snap my head to the sides searching for the sound that seems everywhere with no distinct direction. However, in fear of being found by the unknown presence I don't dare raise it. It'd be a quicker way to die but I just can't do it for an unclear reason; no one ever _really_ wants to succumb to death it's human nature to survive but in some situations it's an escape.

Then there's a howl. A low throaty one that could only leave the mouth of an immense dog - or creature. When I twist my head again I immediately catch sight of the frame adorned with a shaggy earthy brown coat streaked with black; its allowed it to be camouflaged and hidden from my eyes for so long. Before me is a dog or rather a wolf.

But when I see it's eyes I know it is neither; It is a mutt. The eyes are a haunting shade of black. Wide dead looking eyes that are focused on me from 20 yards away. Only the gamemakers could create such a beast.

It lifts its head exposing the neck that's wide like a tree's trunk. And barks, noisily, so loud it resounds and amplifies through the area. But that amount of noise coming from a body that size is impossible, I am certain it is the gamemakers doing. It barks again and again and again. I'm not sure why, but after about a minute of the process it stills lowering it's head seeming satisfied.

Then it leans forward bearing it's teeth at me and snarling. My blood pounds in my ears like it does when I prepare to take a shot. But I have no bow or weapon. As a feeble attempt to try and dissuade it from attack I still completely, only taking soft even breaths into my stiff body. Feeling defenseless shoots fear through me, I'm so weak so powerless without my hands on a bow.

It lowers it's heavy body and digs its paws into the dirt; I know the stance, the dog is ready to attack. The dog lunges forward, the razor like teeth find the bandage on my leg and I cry in sheer pain thrashing. With a swift movement the bandage is gone and its burying its face in my bloody thigh latching onto it. I scream in pure agony and raise my good leg and bring it down across its head. Relief is only for a second, the creature is relentless and goes back for the raw, burning flesh.

The elbows I propped myself up on drop in shaky piles and so do I. The fight I had flees; I give up. In the spur of the moment it's not as painful as it should be, the world is in a whirling blur and I'm placed in the middle not able to distinguish what is real and what is not.

Amongst the ringing in my ears I hear the dog chewing at the remains of my thigh as it pulls it into bloody ribbons. I see the tree tops swaying, so green, so magnificent beckoning me to leave my body to pursue what comes next.

But then, I no longer feel my leg being shredded; I feel the sting of the cool air hitting it and the trails the warm blood makes down my thighs but not the pointy tips of teeth. My head lulls to the side and the leaves crunch against my ears.

There's only one clear thought my mind can grasp in that moment. Peeta Mellark is wrestling that thing.

The dog snaps its teeth stained in my blood at him but Peeta roughly shoves its head to the ground. He straddles the mutts stomach tethering it to the ground by his weight. Preparing for the death blow he pulls a silver dagger from the waistline of his pants. But suddenly, the dog rapidly jerks beneath him and the knife slips from his grasp prohibiting him from using the weapon to kill it.

I struggle but it's useless, I was the one who was trying to save Peeta but he came risking to lose his life to save me. All I can do is watch. The dog squirms beneath him still unable to shake Peeta; I have no doubt that someone, one of the gamemakers is in control of the mutts movements. In a fluid movement he has the dense neck between his strong hands and within seconds he draws it to the side twisting it until there's a bloodcurling snap and a whimper from the hound effectively killing the beast.

And then, without hesitation, he's there by my side trembling and gaping in horror at my wound. He grasps the tail of his shirt and lifts it before falling on his knees next to my wound. "Don't," I gasp in between ragged breaths. Despite my plea he resumes and tries to savage what's left of my thigh by wrapping it in the thin cotton of his shirt. I thrash with every ounce of strength I have left, my body makes the leaves crunch beneath us. Peeta's eyes widen.

"No." I will not let him do it, save me again, my efforts today will not be fruitless. He continues and brings the fabric around to tie it on the flaring, blood covered wound. I end up kicking at him with my other leg and violently smashing my head side to side in pain.

He knots it tightly around my leg and makes a move to scoop me up but I writhe and kick and scream and punch at him. Eventually he places me back in the mound of leaves littered with my own blood. Then again he grabs for me with shaky arms and I struggle on pure adrenaline.

"Katniss stop!" He snaps, his voice has never sounded so cold before, and I know has patience has been tested. "Stop," he repeats, softer, with a regretful tone.

"Let me stay...you go," I whisper my searing throat forbids my voice from working.

"I'm not gonna do that, you're coming back, you're going to live." It sounds like a desperate reassurance to himself.

Out of the blue he scoops me up, unprepared I can only feel the air whirl beneath me and I don't react to startled and caught off guard. He tucks my thrashing head into the sweaty crook of his collarbone and holds one arm around my arms and one around my legs bounding me to him. Shocked and catching up with what's happened I fight again but don't get any shots in, he has to good of a grip, too firm, too tight. Peeta stands and I can feel each stride he takes in the taut muscles of his bare stomach.

I fight tooth and nail to escape. Trying to play at the game of surprise like he had done so successfully. My teeth latch onto the skin at his neck not unlike a snapping turtle would but he doesn't give the response like I wanted to at all. He keeps moving at a brisk pace. I do multiple things like digging my nails into his back but he isn't fazed.

At the sound of a speaker I freeze and he tenses; both of us are in surprise. "Attention Tributes, there has been a rule change, two may go home if they are from the same district. That will be all and good luck and may the odds be ever." Just like that the voice disappears and I cease my fighting. If I play the game right we can go home.

But with my leg that's making me whimper in pure agony I'm not sure if it's even a option anymore.

One thing is for sure, Peeta can go home and either way and I can't hold him back. I exhale and relax in his hold as much as I can but the sharp sizzling in my leg makes it feel like a livewire and the only thing I can do to suppress cries is bite my cheek so hard it draws blood. Doesn't he know I'm on the path to death?

Peeta crouches down and maneuvers us through the small space where the vines aren't connected to the cave wall. Once again I'm embraced by the comfort of the cave, although I can hardly notice it with the pain I'm in.

He settles me on the cold floor and I am grateful, it seems my fever has spiked. Peeta pushes my hair back looking at me with wild eyes. "We'll figure something out, you're going to be okay. . . I promise you're going to be okay."

I know better than to believe him or hold him on his spur-of-the-moment promise.


	6. Chapter 6

**Surprisingly I am back. So I have my whole writing life figured out at the moment and I thought of how this probably has 4-5 chapters left and I just feel that I really should finish this little story!**

**I know it's been a while so you may want to briefly skim through the last chapter to get caught up with everything, I know I had to read it to get up to date myself. **

**But that's about it, this is **_**so**_** cheesy I'm shocked that I wrote it. I feel this time I did decent with it and I usually suck with romance. Oh, and, this was supposed to only be 1k words but I got carried away so it is a bit over 2k now.**

**Happy reading! ^_^**

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**...**

_Chapter 7_

His head tilts up toward the vines of the entrance. "Haymitch, now would be the time to help us you know!"

We're both silent the only sound is my ragged breathing and the large breaths of air Peeta takes through his flaring nostrils. Nothing happens though. Peeta threads his hands in his hair and looks at the blood spilling from the weak bandage his shirt made. He doesn't do what I expected him to; blame me for leaving and getting hurt. He gulps obviously intimidated by the gash in my thigh. "I don't know what to do." His eyes dart back and forth. It's not hard to tell how powerless he feels by the look in his eyes.

Even though he didn't grow up with a mother like mine we both share the knowledge that being this wounded will lead to death, if he won surely he would feed Prim? My family would make it. I'm sure. It's only fair he saved my life, now I get out of the way to ensure he lives. I just wish there were more I could do with this matter.

There's a smack outside the cave and Peeta turns to it hand on a daggers handle protruding from his waistband. Wordlessly he stands up and goes towards the commotion.

"Parachute," he calls from the other side. I sigh in relief and drop my head. Maybe there's something to help me but if it's not that's good as well, quicker death.

* * *

><p>Peeta's POV (Reading the note)<p>

"_The little show__ back there gained sponsors. This took all the sponsors combined to afford it. Start the romance to receive anything else._

_-Haymitch "_

* * *

><p><em>Katniss POV:<em>

The pain is so fierce, so immense, that the only thing I can do is grit my teeth and gasp.

Peeta appears just as I'm questioning how long I have left. He pulls out a needle and grabs my arm before pushing the tip in and holding down the plunger, I'm too weak and in such pain I can't fight. Instantly it's like ice has begun to seep into my veins overwhelming the fire there. It happens slowly and then suddenly; the pain in my leg reduces and feels equivalent to a scrapped knee. Finally I can breathe.

"What was that?" I ask as steadily as my voice can, I now realize I am panting and greedily stealing mouthfuls of air.

He pauses, and his eyebrows furrow, I am surprised he hasn't immediately answered like I thought he would.

The liquid in my veins works like the cheap whiskey from the hob and eases my pain, but this is far more effective than that, this is capital grade.

Peeta frees the bloodied bandage from my thigh using the knife and then pulls something else out of the parachute's basket and pours water over the wound effectively removing the dirt. Then I realize what that something is, it's a expensive tourniquet.

I hear Velcro latching together. "There," Peeta sighs in relief and collapses next to me. "I injected you with pain-killer."

"I figured. How long will it last?"

Peeta blinks and sighs. "Sixteen hours or so." Then he quickly adds. "Don't worry I'm sure I can get you more when you need it."

"Don't you think it's a bit late in the games, it'll be too costly to keep me alive." I sigh exasperated at his determination to keep me alive.

"No it's not Katniss," he says his voice holding finality.

Then how will I ever begin to work on my debt to repay him?

It's moments later that I speak my question. "Then how will I repay you?" I don't believe he'll catch my double meaning, he's saved my life twice and one was outside the arena.

"You don't have to," he utters simply like it is such a small debt if he weren't lying down he'd probably even add a shrug of his shoulders.

"No, what can I do?" I add more pressure to my words than before.

He sighs, "please don't feel indebted to me because you aren't and know that I love having you here with me. You make the days here far more better than you could even begin to imagine."

I frown, but relent for now. "It just feels wrong."

Suddenly his lips fall to match the downward twist on mine, realization strikes his face and he stiffens. "That's why you left?" There's something akin to hurt lingering in his eyes, his eyes drift close slowly before sweeping open and revealing pebble blue. "I didn't make myself clear, I didn't stress that I wanted to do this for you enough."

He sits up somber and sobered more than I have ever seen. Peeta, surprises me when he gathers me in his arms careful to avoid my leg wound as he pulls me to him. I am placed on the glossy black top of the sleeping bag, wide-eyed. "What are you doing, Peeta?" I breathe feeling my heart beats spike.

Peeta shakes his head as if to shush me, and he shifts by my head and crosses his legs, before, to my surprise, cradling my head in his hands and lining me up to comfortably use him as a pillow. I feel my pain significantly dulled and it just makes a faint thrum in my leg now, my breathing is ragged but the wound is no longer the only thing responsible for it. I feel his hand petting my braid, which is so messy it is now looking similar to a awful ponytail, I'm snugly pressed against his lower thigh, my nose and cheek are firmly against it, there's heat seeping from it and sinking into my face. For a moment I think of Gale and how he'd shake his head at me laying my head in the baker's lap, I think about yanking my braid from his fingers and hissing at him. But then I think of the good he's done for me and how relaxed and safe I feel and how insistent Peeta was on doing this. Besides, my mind is made up, I won't go home to hear anyone chastise me for my selfish indulgence right here anyway. Unless, somehow the extraordinary happens and regain my health, after all, there is the new rule change.

I nuzzle my nose a bit deeper into his leg, he smells like boy musk and woods, I imagine he'd smell differently had he not been sent here, like golden honey and fresh bread and the tart apples they make those pies with. Flickers of brief memories with my father burst into my mind, although he held me in a chair and sometimes would steal me out of bed just to sit up and hold my sleeping form but that is different from this somehow. I gulp to relieve the pressure in my throat as a unwanted thought arises, _what if he wasn't lying in his interview? What if Peeta Mellark likes me in the sweetest purest way possible? How could he, he's a much better person than I and to top it off he's a higher class than I; merchant. _

I mentally shake my head and ban thinking that way until there is evidence. I'm not taking a risk on someone with such a impact on my family and I's life. And if the impossible happens and he does like me? . . . then I'll tell him no in the politest way possible. It would probably be nothing more than a temporary infatuation anyway if it were true.

My hair is being unraveled, I feel his fingers at work and I see the elastic hairband Cinna put in it wrapped around his wrist. It bounces free in a tangled mess, luckily it isn't absolutely covered with grease due to Peeta washing me up in the stream a few days prior to this one. They're all smoothed out one by one, he's careful not to tug too hard, I glance up at him since my face is sideways and my right eye can see up, and the frown from earlier has been ironed out from his pink lips, his eyes are . . . soft. "I've always liked your hair," he hums.

"Um, alright," I say. "Maybe you could get a job with the prep team," I lamely tease feeling a bit drowsy.

He gives a solid shake of his head, "no, that's not for me. I wouldn't want to do anyone else's hair, just yours."

I raise my eyebrows wondering why my stomach twists at his words, a foreign yet pleasant sensation to me, it's as if it knows something my head doesn't about Peeta. "A-are you okay?"

He smiles and it's like the one he gave me before the chariot rides, the sweet reassuring kind that almost make him seem slightly timid. They give me this warm shiver. "Of course, I wasn't an hour ago when you were gone but I am _now_."

Right, because he misses the human contact from home and I am the most he can get in the arena. He must miss all his friends and I make a half-decent substitute in his mind.

I feel the exhale of air from deep in his chest, "you know I care about you right?"

His words spark the memory of bread incident and of him helping me by washing Haymitch covered in vomit back on the train. I think of him running his hands through his curls about fifteen minutes ago face lined in stress.

I frown in confusion. "I guess."

He begins to massage my scalp and now run his fingers through my now less knotted braid. "I really mean it. That's my explanation for all this, you've been asking for one and that is it."

"I understand. I care about you too, you're the only one here whose from home and having a familiar face is nice-"

"_So oblivious," _he murmurs and shakes his head.

I scowl at him and his fingers stop. I can't decipher what all this means and if only he would stop beating around the bush and straight out tell me. It's as if he can read my thoughts and sense my frustration. He decides to explain himself in a new way. "Katniss," he asks still very softly and patient with me, "can I borrow your hand?"

I eye him warily, I trust him enough to let him. _"Okay,"_ I drawl out the word, it screams of my uncertainty. He takes the hand I outstretch and rubs the knuckles with his thumb in quiet assurance. My hand is dry and scarred from years of hunting, I'm more tanned than him, but he seems to have no problem with the imperfections or differences between us. His warm hand is soon replaced with the solid expanse of his broad chest.

"Peeta," I squeak out in surprise, "what are you doing?" I'm tempted to rip my hand away, it feels so personal and my skin feels like it's been touched by fire. Before I can pull away he encloses my flat hand with his and it's like glue holding me there. He adds a little pressure on the back of my hand.

"Do you feel my heart beat, yeah?" he asks softly and it eases my nerves some.

"I do." That's the truth and nothing less, it's strong and incessant against my flat palms and it makes me feel strange. Why am I allowing Peeta to do this?

He tentatively licks his dry lips, "it feels hurried, right?"

"Yes. What are you implying?" I feel like I'm asking too many questions, it makes me feel petulant to him but he doesn't give any signs that he feels that way. Instead he replies calmly, and persists to remain patient.

He smiles broadly at me. "It shouldn't be that fast, should it?"

"No. Tell me, should I have got it by now, you're being awfully patient," I feel the features of my face tighten into a grimace, "you don't have to be nice to me."

"I don't have to but I choose to. You're getting there, I guess your still grasping _things_ and I will always be patient when it comes to you. That won't change." He still is as collected as before. "Why would my heart beat be fast?"

I decide to continue our game that is starting to seem like 21 questions.

I arch an eyebrow at him, "are you nervous?"

That award winning smile finds his face again, "You got it. I told you that you would get it eventually."

"And you're nervous because. . ."

"You. I'm always this way around you. I can't help it."

I still don't understand. I yank away my hand from his warm cotton covered chest and tuck it beneath my other arm. "This still isn't making sense. I make you nervous?"

"You do. You're very intimidating. . . in a good way."

My mind becomes further muddled than before if that is even possible. "I'm the wounded one though, it should be the other way around."

"It's not," he sadly smiles.

"Please, just tell me I'm tired of guessing what you mean," I ask my eyes beginning to become heavy, the warmth of Peeta doesn't help.

He purses his lips. "Okay. The truth is. . . I'm _dying_ to kiss you right now."


	7. Chapter 7

**Hey there, here's Chapter 8 it took a turn for the cheesy side, but this is about the cave scene so I suppose it was inevitable. I'll try to make next chapter less fluffy unless you guys prefer it. Enjoy and remain fabulous, reviews are great if you chose to leave them but either way is good. :***

_He purses his lips. "Okay. The truth is . . . I'm dying to kiss you right now."_

When he says those stupid simple unexpected words I choke on my breath. It's as if I've had a bucket of ice water dumped over my head, some startling awakening. I no longer feel the lethargy trying to pull me under, like that it vanishes into the shadows and my rampant thoughts appear pulling me left and right.

All at once, I realize it must be true. That confession in the interview which I didn't take seriously, it's the explanation for all this. I don't know how to feel, is it right to let anger gnaw away in your stomach in this situation? I've never had experience or advice for this. Nor Madge or I ever got approached in school, we sticked to the sidelines and watched. Madge was a bit longing, willing some guy to pay her attention by staring at him with her helpless gaze, as if she could convey those thoughts telepathically. I, however, was never that way. I prefer to do everything on my own, but when your lacking your weapon of choice and a leg there's not much you can do. Gale was the only guy I spoke to, but he isn't for me, he's a friend and he understands that, not that he was interested anyways. I've only dealt with this once before and it was with the same guy, Peeta. After the interviews in a fit or rage I shoved him into a glass vase and he cut his hands and bled as I snarled at him.

Oh how the tables have turned, now I am not the one towering over him as he is hurt but he is to me, although not in a threatening way like I had been previously.

Finally I choke out some words to Peeta who is now stiff with nerves and possibly anticipation. "I don't think that's a _good idea_ for you to _kiss me-"_ I sputter, "I mean, there's people watching and this is the Hunger Games!" I utter in explanation, eyes wide.

He loosens up beneath my head, seemingly back to his easy going self. "I do. They changed the rules, remember?" A flitter of a smile I can only compare to day light sweeps though his lips. "We can both go home. We can win now. Besides, you might like it."

Reason stalks into my mind cold, harsh, and reprimanding. _He could die anytime and so could you. You can't make stupid decisions when you determine Prim's future. _And then there is the soft voice tip-toeing in from the untouched feminine crevice of my mind. _He's very sweet. Remember the bread? _

Should I lash out or be kind? Yes, one voice says, and the other replies with a firm no, it's as if there's some intense battle of ping pong going on in the walls of my mind.

"And things could also go for the worse," I remind him.

"Okay," he admits slightly defeated yet his cheer has not been fully extinguished. "But push all that back in your mind for now. You could like kissing?"

I choke on my spit at his unashamed straightforwardness. "Are you out of your mind?"

"Maybe a little bit, but that's because I am with you."

I scoff at his flirty manner. "Don't be ridiculous."

But he shakes his head. "I'm not. Just please take a chance on something for once, you may find yourself liking it."

I scowl but can't deny myself a glance at his full lips, teasing lines of carnation pink with a dark line balanced in the middle hinting at more. I feel a thread of inexplicable sadness in my chest, so many girls get their thrill from this type of thing and I've ignored it all this time._ They must exaggerate,_ I decide, how could touching mouths with the opposite sex lead to bliss or anything of that category? Once again I'm reminded of the weight of poverty and the ache of hunger, they will always come first, indulging in something like this would be so frivolous and selfish. "I doubt I would," I try to pick my head up from his leg, but I am a weak trembling mess and only make it part way. Immediately I feel a hand at my stomach steadying me before I fall back.

"Easy, no more hurting yourself," he teases, good-naturedly of course, but there's a glumness to his tone as if he is forlorn, perhaps frustrated.

"I didn't mean to last time." I nervously straighten my posture, I am now sitting legs outstretched like stiff crooked tree limbs since I cannot cross them.

"I know," he sighs barely louder than a whisper, I'm surprised when he lays on his side to dig his face into the crook of my neck and twines his arms around my lower stomach. I think I stop breathing when I feel him nuzzle his nose into my skin. Feeling his warm exhales of breath and the soft flutter of his eyelashes make my heart give funny little pangs, sensations caused from a nervousness and delight that for some reason, I can't explain.

And then suddenly he's moving, he's sitting up as well and and drawing his hands to my shoulders. "You worry a lot."

My heart thumps almost violently, what is this thing we have going on right now? "I believe I have reason to, it's nearly impossible to be calm here."

"Oh no, it's possible. I'm relaxed right now, you just need to calm your thoughts. Can I kiss you now?"

I think I forget to breathe. My heart gives a stupid stutter and my throat dries up, I want to glower at him but I forget how to move my facial muscles. The depths of my stomach pools with butterflies, a myriad of them that are so aggressive I feel like I'm going to get sick.

I shake my head half-heartedly. "_Peeta_-" I warn in a low voice, it's all I can muster.

His cheeks burn, and he licks his lips tentatively. The blue in his eyes are almost feverish with desire, or something akin to it that makes me feel astonishingly nervous. My lips become taut and I look away.

"Stop thinking."

What if he can see straight right through me somehow and pull every thought from my mind? I shut my eyes and try to think of nothing, but I can't seem to successfully. _G__reen, _I think, _think about the color green. Trees, life, woods. _My mind isn't wavered however, thinking else where than the present is like choosing brittle bland tessarae bread for supper over a luxurious flowery capitol dinner that oozes with spices and various flavors.

Then I open my eyes and I see Peeta closer than before, invading my space so shamelessly. I know he's going to kiss me in that instant, so I pull back hands outstretched, eyes wide as saucers. "No, no, not right-" I choke out in broken explanation.

"Why, Katniss?" he says in a tone that's almost guttural.

I feel a confusion wedged in my stomach like a knife, but it's not painful, it's thought consuming and strange - maybe it's _not _confusion. My heart certainly should not react this way to being simply out of sorts, it's more like the exhilaration you'd get from panic. Wonderful and indescribable, a high you never want to leave.

"People. . . cameras, it's wrong."

"And I am sure _no one _would mind, you have got to learn to worry _less. _I understand if you don't like me back but I want to try. You're really lovely, and you seem incapable of believing me, but really, call me selfish but this is what I want."

He trails a finger down my wrist and the back of my arm as he speaks and I shiver, this feeling explodes in my chest, a burst of hair-raising warmth. And I feel so stupid for not being able to stay still, I hang my head down as I reply. I don't want to look him in his earnest blue eyes. "We're in the Hunger Games," I object weakly once again, "you deserve better than this."

My hand is enclosed with the warm mass of his, and it makes me want to tremble harder than before. I cannot shake the feeling, I am nothing more than a nervous ball of energy. His other hand of finds my chin, and makes me lift my eyes to his. The depths of his eyes are like galaxies flecked with dark blue stars. "You do too. _So much better." _Peeta licks his lips. "If you belonged to me I'd ensure that and much more, you'd never go without, I'd put you before myself in everything, never be cruel. Not that I'm trying to bribe you, I'm just stating how we'd work."

"Peeta," I intake a unsteady lung full of air. He pulls his hands away, and I blink.

He's it happens before I can protest again or give a firm _no. Him _shifting forward a frame of warmth and gentleness, placing his hand on the sides of my face and catching me by surprise.

When Peeta's lips connect with mine I am stiff as a door, yet I am filled with needles of sensation as my lips are pressed to his, they're supple and soft and hot, or maybe I make up the burn his contact leaves. I am breathless and unsure but he is insistent. _He's must have kissed so many girls _but I can't seem to make myself push him away, I've thrown reason to the wind like a fool.

My lips move against my own will and respond. There's no way I can seem to stop it, it feels incredibly right. I should analyze this action more but I don't, the moment is short lived however, he stills and pulls back.

I am tossed back into reality as time resumes. I feel strange, _in a good way, _I no longer tremble outwardly but inside I do. Inside I am all over the place, a mess of feelings and thoughts. How could an event that lasted mere seconds change everything so quickly?

Th hands he has on my cheeks that I'd momentarily forgot about drop, "that was the best few seconds of my life." My lips tingle with heat and moisture from his mouth and I feel almost dizzy. His pale eyebrows knit together, "did you like it?"

I feel my face turn crimson giving away what remained of my calm facade. Like a wave, a rush of wind pours through the entrance of the cave and meets my heated skin in that moment. Words do not want to leave my mouth, my tongue feels like cotton and my lips are still basking in the after glow. My eyes look away, I take in the sight of the now rumpled sleeping bag smoothed out underneath his legs, our boots knocked together in an innocent way.

"Did you?" Something blazes in his irises, his voice is low and taut and still somehow rich.

"Peeta . . ." I say that name for seemingly the millonth time tonight, I hardly realize I'm speaking, my voice has dropped its edge and adopted a quiet volume.

"You didn't did y-"

Suddenly I tilt forward and capture his lips within a seconds time, I'm not sure why, at this point it may just be a way to ease his nerves. It happens again, unexpected excitement, wet mouths, and a lurch in my stomach, only this time he is the wide eyed one caught off guard.

I lean back after only a brief moment. Shyness courses through me, and I wonder if what I did could have possibly been right. When I finally collect the courage to look up at him Peeta is slack-jawed with a wide drunken grin taking over.

"Thanks for answering," he says just as we hear a something clank outside the cave.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: We're getting towards the end, I believe there's three more chapters after this one. I'd like to state that in the real world if Katniss acquired such a wound she'd probably be on her death bed right now. However, this is story written purely for my/the readers pleasure so it's not fully detailed and mapped out with accurate medical details.**

**Her painkiller has yet to wear off as well, if she were blinded by pain she wouldn't catch the small things Peeta does for her.**

**That's that, back to the story.**

**. . .**

_"Thanks for answering," he says just as we hear a something clank outside the cave._

Not only is it the smack of metal on rock it's footsteps, small like a cat's. There's the whip of red hair and the flash of a slim body beyond the netting.

Peeta and I both gape through the vine netting as she slips into the woods, the girl from district 5 stole the parachute we had just recieved in the blink of an eye. I've never seen it successfully done on TV but then again, I've also never seen a girl drag herself out to die and in return get saved by one whom she hardly knows. These game's are full of unfathomable surprises. Peeta seems to mutter something under his breath before rushing out in a heartbeat, does he think that could have been my costly cure? I highly doubt it is. I am not the most admirable one in these games, such money used on me would be unusal.

I helplessly watch as he vanishes into the treeline, he's gone before the chance to protest even presents itself to my mind. From getting attacked by a dog to being fervently kissed my day has had variety I'm just in shock and slower than normal. My mind's gears are moving at their own leisure - maybe it's the capitol painkiller.

Peeta out in the woods by himself is a thought that unnerves me in the strangest way. Worry pools in my chest, the girl, I know, is harmless of course but I'm afraid some other tribute is lurking out there ready to take him by surprise. Within an agonizing minute he returns and swats through the vines. "She's fast," he gasps, "so, so, fast."

"That's why she's made it this far," I wryly remind him.

Peeta slumps next to me in a sweaty mess, his shoulers are slumped in defeat. "I'm sorry Katniss."

"Don't apologize," I warn.

He looks up. "No, I really screwed up. That could have been your medicine, your hope, the awnser to it all and I just carelessly let it slip through my fingers because I was too wrapped up in the previous events." At least I know I wasn't the only one distracted. Truth is, I'm not mad and I have no right to be, I am merely agitated. He must understand that either way this will all end soon. I will end soon. Unless the unexpected happens and the odds are in my favor. Although luck has not appeared too fond of me lately.

I don't think Peeta understands that my hope comes in dandelions, bright yellow that says anything can happen, even good. And I doubt anyone else realizes that my symbol is right before my eyes, a foot away from the cave swaying with the grass is a burst of yellow.

I don't speak for numerous seconds so when I do it's like a blade cutting through the silence. "I don't blame you and I doubt that was nothing more than soup, my treatment will be pricey you know."

"I know." He frowns.

I change the topic, it's _not_ a lighter one but it's good to know. "Do you plan on hunting soon? _We're_ thinning out."

There's stillness for a minute, I wonder if he's fallen asleep but quickly my assumptions are corrected. "No. Never." His voice is considerably thick.

I hear his distant voice in my thoughts, _I'm more than just a piece in their games._

And we are. We're souls seeking home and comfort in a hopeless place.

_They don't own me._

I hate to admit it but in a way they kind of do own us, we're under their thumbs waiting to be smashed at any moment without notice. The pressure of that understanding could weigh anyone down so much that they could do uncharacteristic things in result. I know it firsthand, half the men in the Seam turn abusive as a result to the stress of the mines.

Peeta could easily kill me. The thought has crossed my mind but not frequently as of late. If he is then he's going about the task in a strenuous way, that much is for sure. He doesn't portray traits like Cato, tempestuous, moody, ceaselessly snapping. I don't think he'd do anything ever, after all it's of no benefit to him with that unpredictable rule change. Still, there's reasoning, if things turn for worse, and they will likely in short time; I am nothing more than a liability and there's not a vast array of options of how to keep me alive. He probably wouldn't kill me but I don't think I'd continue to breathe very long. I'm not sure how the outcome of this will play out, I don't trust Peeta but he's certainly not a stranger.

If I die, that's it. Maybe it's been a long time coming. But Prim and her health would suffer. Despite my status and no matter what happens there's Gale and our promise and he doesn't break them.

Time passes, Peeta and I do not touch, no one dares to kiss the other, we don't cross the line again and for some reason it delivers dismay. Nothing major happens, a cannon is fired, yet there is no way to tell who has died until sundown. The sound echoes in my mind penetrating my blanket of peace, how many of us are left again, seven maybe eight?

We watch the sky darken, my eyes fight to stay open but eventually I drop my elbows propping me up and fall back. It's just when I'm beginning to slip into the bliss of sleep when I'm violently shaken awake.

"Look!" Peeta's eyes are wide as they dart to the sky. I'm out of it for a mere second and then I'm sobered as I spot it, the picture in the sky. She's dead. The fox-like teenager is gone like that, I'll forever wonder how her life was stolen. The death doesn't really sink in, I see her in the training center before the games and pronouncing the clever girl as gone doesn't seem right.

Her picture fades permanently gone with the rest. "I can't believe it," I mutter.

"I know." Peeta lies beside me blue eyes dimmed, he seems to be taking a moment of much needed respite. "A waste of life. She was intelligent, seemed like the kind of person that impacts the world somehow, y'know?" I'm caught by surprise, Peeta needs to tone it down before he offends the capitol and also by the fact he's not glad she's dead because she stole.

"You're a good person," I blurt out, I feel embarrassed for letting my thoughts slip as soon as I say them. He took me in and hasn't shown violence yet.

The blonde gives a hollow laugh, the death has robbed the sound of it's fullness. Despite it all his eyes still crinkle in the corners, "How so?"

Bread. Beatings. Starvation. Rain. Compassion.

"Nevermind that," my voice wavers, I'm afraid it shows the significance the event holds to me. Then again, he has no idea what I'm thinking of and perhaps he doesn't even remember it himself. He probably wouldn't recall a simple act of kindness from a young age.

He frowns, "you're always so uncomfortable when you talk."

"I suppose it's just not my thing."

He reaches out and caresses my face, I'm too startled to move. Somewhere in the pits of my snowballing mind I decide I like the contact.

"I can make up for your silence if you want. I've been told it's my thing."

I begin to wonder if I am still under tracker jacket venom somewhere in the woods. Could my mind really conjure Peeta like this? Is this really happening?

"Okay," I whisper.

"I like being next to you. Makes me feel calm, you're very different than the girl's back home. I find you kind of intimidating, it's crazy since you're about the weight of a mockingjay." He then abruptly stops concern igniting his eyes. "By the way how are you?"

"Sweating like a pig."

He rises to sitting position instantly and then he's wordlessly pressing his palm to my temples. "Does it you feel hotter than usual?"

Yes, but everything feels hot when he's touching me. "I think but it doesn't feel drastic as opposed to usual. Why, does it feel hot out to you?"

"No, actually it's kind of nice out for once. I think you have a slight fever again."

A small fever along with a list of other fatal issues.

He seems to read my mind. "You're going to be absolutely fine."

I will. Unless I spend about two more days without treatment, then I will be a timer clicking in reverse until I reach zero.

"We should eat." He notably brightens up, I wonder how much food he has left, I know he can't hunt. I have no bow. We're running out of supply as well as energy and time.

"Okay, but let me hunt first."

Peeta's eyes widen and I proceed to propose a plan that makes me red in the face. Despite the unrelenting pull of fatigue I tell him we should go now. He suggests I take an hour nap first but I kindly decline, we'll both be fed when I sleep next, it's a small repayment to an immense debt.

Hunting at night without Gale is untreaded territory; but being choiceless I dive into it with Peeta. Right away I understand that I can't just have him carry me around; his tread is far too heavy and I'm not asking for something so needy. I do however ask him to help me outside and allow me to borrow a knife. I'm surprised when he hands it over seemingly unconflicted - he trusts me.

We camp at the base of the tree where the undergrowth is high and overgrown, saplings and scruffy bushes have begun to sprout. I wince as a twig brushes against my leg.

Five minutes later he starts to use words; something he doesn't seem to be able to last long without.

"What are we doing?" Peeta whispers.

"Ssh, we're waiting."

"Nothing is out here though, how long should it be?" His shoulder skims my arm.  
>"It takes time. Quiet."<p>

He sighs softly and leans into our hiding spot against the bark; Peeta twiddles his thumbs and I scan the surroundings. There's light from the moon, I can see better than usual on most nights, my skin is sticky and despite how chatty Peeta is I'm unimaginably grateful that I'm not alone.

There's many things I've wished for; food, comfort, supplies, the reversal of death, health, and luck. Ironically it's always something I'd possessed at a time. Here I am, doing it again, wishing for something I once had, my bow. I hope my skills meet Gale's tonight because knives are his strength not mine. If I miss I don't know what I'll do.

Out of the corner of my eye I watch Peeta gradually tilts up and pecks my cheek before retreating. What will I do with him? If we make it back will we share a life or return to awkward distance? I've never wanted a guy in my life, yet here is one handing himself to me on a silver platter and I'm contemplating accepting.

If we did go home together I'd hide him from the capitols reach, but keeping him on shelf away from the world is selfish. Although Peeta acts like he'd accept any plan I propose, even if it meant me being the only person he'd see for the rest of his life.

Glancing over I see his head buried in his chest; he's fallen fast asleep. I don't blame him, I did string him along through hell today.

Why does someone like him bother with me?

Loneliness seeps in, he's in another world and I'm the only alert one. I was slightly sleepy while he was awake but now I'm not at all. The cave felt so safe and now I'm out in the open with people hoping I don't see dawn. I feel vulnerable; especially with this leg.

Hunting was my idea and I'm being ridiculous, everyone is probably far off from here. We need meat and I need to prove myself useful, I won't take advantage of Peeta's crazy feelings.

Movement swishes in nearby grass, my stomach drops. Tribute. I'm deciding to wake Peeta when I notice it isn't a person, it's a bird roaming and seeking worms in the ground. My heart soars for a moment as I shake the fear, round body, small head, slim legs, and comical beady eyes, the familiarity washes over me and for a second I believe I'm home. Its a groosling; a bird which I saw quite a bit before this mess.

I draw back the knife and exhale as I release, it's done quickly, I watch the creature tumble down to the ground wide eyed. The bird is so fat, slow, and unsuspecting that it was a easy target. How relieved I do feel, finally I have something to present to Peeta; it's not a lot but it's something however small it may be.

Shifting to my side I shake Peeta and stretch my cramped body careful not to move my leg. When I don't get a response immediately I give a little rougher shake. His eyes open, they're round sweeping over my face.

"I made a kill."

"Really?" he asks, voice guttural.

"Yeah," I murmur, "let's collect it and go back."

He wipes the sleep from his eyes. "Alright. . . just. . . " he yawns. "Waking up."

I'm glad we didn't stray far from the cave. After collecting the fresh meat we return, we feed each other lightly salted crackers and dried fruit, he agrees that we should wait until morning to cook the meat. Fires are risky and I'm falling asleep as I chew.

Eventually I get to slip into the sleeping bag, it's welcoming like a freshly dried blanket, my bones cry out at the feeling of lying down. I guess it was a good thing that Peeta briefly napped and offered to take watch; because all of the of sky and the stars bleed into one.

I think he was staring at my face again, but I don't break the seal of my eyes to find out.

**. . .**

**If all goes as planned next chapter is the last in the arena! (I'm guessing it will probably be the longest yet.) Suggestions are welcome if you get any. Don't fear, she should get fonder of him. ;)**

**How I love Friday. Happy Friday to you; bye guys!**


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